


Anguish And The Sea

by fromunderthegaytree



Category: BioShock
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Drug Withdrawal, M/M, Recovery, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 10:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14306523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromunderthegaytree/pseuds/fromunderthegaytree
Summary: Leaving Rapture was the easy part. But Jack doesn't know how to deal with himself.





	Anguish And The Sea

Rapture was Jack’s mistress. Ripping stuffing from Jack’s plush heart, she filled it with rocks. She was vampiric, sucking all the life from his weak body. She left him, leaving him with a shell of what he once was. He had to wake up in the morning with uneasiness straggling inside him. He had to look into the mirror in the corner of his bedroom.

The first thing he usually did in the morning was observe how much he changed. Ever since he left Rapture, his weight fluctuated like chameleon camouflage. It was a lottery. Some days, he could see a beer gut beginning to protrude and other days, he could see the faint outline of his ribs. The variables that didn’t change were the bags underneath his eyes and an unshaved 5 ‘o'clock shadow. He’d have to stare at what he had become. His appearance seldom bothered him.

The addiction chased him. It was constant but sometimes, his itches were soul-crushing. The itches were sporadic and struck him without mercy.

Tenenbaum and Atlas were aware of his decline. Jack couldn’t tell which of Atlas’ faces killed him more… In the beginning, he’d cry alongside with him. His sobs were wheezy and his tears used to feel like mist against his barren head. Jack never feared that Tenenbaum’s sympathy would soon run dry. He feared Atlas’ imminent indifference. It happened slowly, forcing Jack to watch.

He lost him. He was a great useless breathing cadaver. His girls were beginning to comprehend that he wasn’t their father, he was replaced. They were used to being ushered away from Jack’s bedroom door. It was either Tenenbaum cooing in german, telling them to go play or Atlas mumbling about Jack feeling ill. Their invitations to play dolls died down.

After Tenenbaum yelled at him, she forced him to visit the beach. That day, he discovered how he much he missed feeling. The sun’s radiance burnt his skin, turning his pasty skin pink. The nippy water made the bedsores on his ankles sting. Even when it hurt, he felt better. He built shoddy sandcastles with his daughters, reminding himself of his identity as a father. Like an acid reflux, the guilt from neglecting them swallowed him. 

The day was burning out. And so was he. He wished he was man alone on the beach while Tenenbaum took the girls for a walk. But he could hear Atlas.

Behind the orchestra of sea waves, there was the sound of Atlas striking a match and lighting a cigarette. The sound was almost unnoticeable.

He walked over to him. “Can I sit?” He asked, prompting Jack to look at him. He must’ve been ashamed of him.

“Go ahead.” Jack said, gesturing at the empty spot. He caught glimpses of the tracks on his arm, reminding him of what he was. He could pretend that he was a father, that he was Atlas’ complicated lover and Tenenbaum’s subtle acolyte. He could play pretend but at the very root of his being, he was a pawn used by Fontaine and Ryan, a slave to Rapture. It sickened him.

“What’re you thinking about?” Atlas asked, sitting next to him. They didn’t dare look at each other. Jack opened his mouth to reveal his honest yet vile thoughts. He paused, searching for honeyed words that would spare him of his pain.

The sun had already set. Now, the ocean was only a memory of the tourist-attracting beach during the day. The few clouds straggled across the grey sky, with the sun highlighting their upper halves with tangerine.

“You didn’t answer.” Atlas pointed out. He laid his hand against Jack’s back. It felt smooth. Back in Rapture, his palm were lined with callouses. Now they were soft, pale but comfortable hands. Jack was jealous.

“I didn’t.” He acknowledged. But his lips didn’t form any more words. He couldn't tell Atlas how he felt. He couldn’t even pinpoint what he was feeling. It was general malaise. But it still did terrible things to him.

“I know.” Atlas said, his voice tender with the sort of kindness that hurt Jack. The tenderness that was part of Atlas. Even when he was terribly cross because he wasn’t his Jack anymore - at least he was human.

He tried stealing a glimpse of him from the corner of his eye. The cherry at the end of the cigarette glowed - willing itself into existence with a sizzle. It died out. Atlas caught his glance with a stare. His bottom lip jutted out before smoke rolled into the humid air. He redirected his gaze towards the ocean.

“Do you miss it?” His voice sounded far away. It was being whispered from the heavens. But Atlas remained sitting next to him. The question crawled into his ears before it grabbed his heart; squeezing with a vice-like grip.

He opened his mouth, letting it hang ajar as he registered the lump in his throat. It became difficult to even breathe. “No.” Jack choked out, wrestling with the knot in his airway. “Oh god, I don’t…” He swallowed a few times. The constricting pain in his throat melted.

“C’mon, talk to me.” Atlas urged, “please.” There it was. That same tenderness that he used. He looked at him. His cigarette was dying out, continuing to release a faint plume of smoke. Following his attention, he held it out.

Their transaction was silent. Jack took a drag, feeling a wind of satisfaction ripple through him. It soothed him, regardless of the threat of a headache scheduled tomorrow. On Atlas’ lips, a faint smile peeked out. It faltered, his mien falling back into a melancholic state.

“I miss you.” His hand raised, suspended in the air for a second. Jack thought he would reach out and inflict something onto him. He didn’t care if it was a vindictive flick on the cheek or cradling his arm. He needed to know what it was like - before. But he didn’t. Atlas simply scratched the back of his neck. It dropped, laying against his lap.

Atlas watched Jack nurse the stub until his fingertips burnt. “...and Brigid.” He added, pulling the cigarette from his fingertips. It was prudent. Jack couldn’t figure if he was so calculated with his words because he thought Jack was fragile or if he was afraid of him. “And your girls. Masha and Sally and…”

He wasn’t strong anymore. His voice was wavering.

He grabbed his arms, holding them up so he could face him. His stare skidded over his arms. From the faint tattoos on his goddamn wrists to the tracks on the inside of his goddamn elbows.

“I understand, I get it… It hurts.”

Something inside Jack broke. All of his ache liberated itself. His head slumped against his chest. The lump returned, stronger than ever. He couldn’t stop it this time. He crumpled, curling into himself. And his heart? It made him hurt. It hurt more than any hit to the head. Because he didn’t know if he could fix it. It wasn’t any nick that you could put a band-aid over.

He was derailing, going past the point of return. Atlas pulled him into a hug. Tears glided down Jack’s cheek, catching themselves on his upper lip or his chin. Atlas’s chest shook as he heaved silent sobs. He was an earthquake, rumbling with grief.

They cried for what seemed forever. They were both wishing their tears could summon some sort of change. But when their crying ceased, nothing had changed. Jack, in spirit, was still far away, back in Rapture. Back with the men who made him do their bidding, letting him splice and letting him wither away.

Atlas didn’t know how to bring him back. He tried his damned hardest to peer into Jack’s eyes, trying to communicate. Even trapped in each other’s embrace, they were the loneliest creatures on the face of the planet.

The only thing that changed was the sky. The clouds were no longer visible. They camouflaged onto the pitch black sky. A sky which didn’t seem at all like the bright blue it was earlier.

They were no more sandcastles, no more laughing and no more smiles. It was just anguish and the sea.


End file.
